Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 25
Iclamberin,wonderingifwearingsuchashortskirtforthereturntoSeattlewasagoodidea.ItwascoolandwelcomeinGeorgia.HereIfeelexposed.OnceTaylorhasstowedmybagsinthetrunk,wesetoffforEscala.
Thejourneyisslow,caughtupinrush-hourtraffic.Taylorkeepshiseyesontheroadahead.Taciturndoesnotbegintodescribehim.
Icanbearthesilencenolonger.
“How’sChristian,Taylor?”
“Mr.Greyispreoccupied,MissSteele.”
Oh,thismustbe“thesituation.”Iamminingaseamofgold.
“Preoccupied?”
“Yes,ma’am.”
IfrownatTaylor,andheglancesatmeintherearviewmirror,oureyesmeeting.He’ssayingnomore.Jeez,hecanbeastightlippedasthecontrolfreakhimself.
“Isheokay?”
“Ibelieveso,ma’am.”
“AreyoumorecomfortablecallingmeMissSteele?”
“Yes,ma’am.”
“Oh,okay.”
Well,thatcurtailsourconversation,andwecontinueinsilence.IbegintothinkthatTaylor’srecentslip,whenhetoldmethatChristianhadbeenhellonwheels,wasananomaly.Perhapshe’sembarrassedaboutit,worriedthathe’sbeendisloyal.Thesilenceissuffocating.
“Couldyouputsomemusicon,please?”
“Certainly,ma’am.Whatwouldyouliketohear?”
“Somethingsoothing.”
IseeasmileplayonTaylor’slipsasoureyesmeetbrieflyagaininthemirror.
“Yes,ma’am.”
Hepushesafewbuttonsonthesteeringwheel,andthegentlestrainsofPachelbel’sCanonfillsthespacebetweenus.Ohyes…thisiswhatIneed.
“Thankyou.”IsitbackaswedriveslowlybutsteadilyalongInterstate5intoSeattle.
